


Dancing in the Blue

by BibliophileLove



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Affection, Angst, Awkward Dates, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Major Character Injury, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Pictures, Pining, Plot, Romance, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, supportive best friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BibliophileLove/pseuds/BibliophileLove
Summary: Yuuri has wanted to go to Juilliard since he was fifteen, when he first discovered the grainy youtube videos of an unnamed foreign dancer wearing the Schools prestigious logo. Now 23, he's moved to NY with his best friend Phichit to prepare for a dance competition boasting a grand prize of a fully paid scholarship to the college of his dreams. On his second night in NY, Phichit takes him to a popular casino club to dance, where he meets a vaguely familiar silver haired stranger.A fun little AU that will include dancing, yoga, coffee, awkward situations, best friend shenanigans, a cranky russian who is crushing hard on the bartender, backstories, flirting, anxiety, eating disorders, emotional development, and much more.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, and welcome to my story. I have some chapters done and will update weekly. Probably every Wednesday or Thursday. Feel free to leave encouraging comments, you all know they fuel the writing fire. <3
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested in beta-ing, send me a message! :D

_ “Phichit, isn’t he beautiful?” _

 

_ “He’s definitely talented, at the least.” _

 

_ “Talented? He’s amazing. I want to be like that.”  _

 

_ Yuuri stared at the computer screen with soft eyes, absorbed by the grainy video. Silver hair framed by sunlight, twirling in a perfect circle as it chased the slender boy’s form. He danced as if he was made of butterflies wings, with one pale hand resting on the barre. As Yuuri watched, one leg lifted behind him, arcing up until his toes touched the roots of his silver hair.  _

 

_ “Who is he?” Phichit asked, nearly as engrossed as Yuuri.  _

 

_ “I don’t know. I can’t read what language it’s in. I think it’s russian, but I’m not sure. But look, can you see…?”  _

 

_ Yuuri pointed one finger up, nearly touching the screen over the boys chest. They could just make out the emblem on the front of his t-shirt.  _

 

_ “Julliard,” Phichit whispered, as though the word was a prayer. _

 

_ “Yeah. So that’s where I’m going to go. I’m going to get in, and I’m going to find him and meet him.” Yuuri spoke with all the conviction of a fifteen year old boy, his eyes never straying from the silver dancer on the computer screen.  _

 

_ “Well if you’re going then I’m going. Someone has to keep you out of trouble.” _

 

_ “Pfft, I think it’s the other way around.” After a minute of silence, “Do you think I could do it?”  _

 

_ “Yuuri, you’re an amazing dancer. You just need to build your confidence. Once you do that, no one will be better than you. You’re missing the real problem.” Yuuri finally tore his eyes from the screen to look at his friend.  _

 

_ “What?” He asked, with genuine concern.  _

 

_ “How am I going to get in?”  _

 

_ Yuuri laughed, then shook his head as he turned back to the computer.  _

 

_ “I’ll stuff you into my suitcase. They’ll never know.” _

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Hello?”

 

“Yuuuuuuuuuuriiiiiiiiiiii,” Phichit whined in his ear.

 

“What? I just got off the plane.” 

 

“You’re here! You should have said! Where are you? I’m in terminal three.”

 

“I’m coming up to three now, so you should see me? I can’t- it’s crowded so I don’t-”

 

Click.

 

“Yuuri!” 

 

Phichit’s body collided with his forcefully, causing Yuuri to drop his carry-on. He didn’t care. He grinned into his friends neck, hugging him back just as tight. It had been nearly a year, after all. 

 

“I can’t believe you’re finally here! I’m so excited, I have so many things to show you, so many places you have to see! You have to come by the resturant and the studio, and there is an awesome pub that you’ll love! Well, you’ll probably hate it, but i’ll love watching you hate it! And there is- oh wait, hang on!” 

 

Yuuri felt himself twisted around, his cheek pressed to Phichits. 

 

“Smile, Yuuri!” He did his best, and after the shutter sound Phichit brought his phone around so that they could see. He saw his own flushed, awkward face smiling next to Phichits, who was perfectly posed as usual. 

 

“Let me just post this real quick, hang on…”

 

“I’m gonna go grab my luggage, okay?”

 

“Okay, yeah, i’ll be right here.”

 

Yuuri turned and picked up his carry-on and went in search of the rest of what remained of his life. He still couldn’t believe he was actually here, in New York with Phichit. The last seven years of his life had led to this, but to find that it was actually happening was surreal. 

 

Ever since they were fifteen, Yuuri and Phichit had planned to apply for Julliard. They had taken class after class, ballet, yoga, modern, hip hop, even exotic. Dancing was what they did, it was what they loved. Juilliard was one of the best performing arts schools in the world, so that was where Yuuri felt he needed to be. 

 

Not to mention that he still held out hope that he would finally meet the silver dancer. 

 

Soon after that fateful day, the regular videos had ceased and Yuuri had seen no more of his idol. Not that it deterred him, quite the opposite. It only made him want to get to Julliard more. Not just for the silver dancer, but for himself. To prove to himself that he was more than just a chubby little boy from Hasetsu who liked to twirl around. He was more than that. And he would prove it. 

 

“Are you ready?” Phichit asked, smiling as Yuuri walked back up to him, dragging his suitcase behind. 

 

Yeah. I’m ready.”

  
  
  


The cab ride took two hours.  _ Two hours.  _

 

Yuuri dearly loved Phichit, but after being cooped up on a plane, then the cab listening to him talk nonstop in his excitement, Yuuri was exhausted. He just wanted to breathe. And sleep for three days. Jetlag was no joke. 

 

When they got to the apartment, Yuuri tried not to grimace. 

 

“I know, it’s small. There aren’t actual bedrooms, but there are curtained off areas for privacy. And it’s just me and you so it shouldn’t be too bad. I promise not to leave my dirty laundry lying around. And there is a kitchen and a bathroom, but our shower is super tiny. Like, for real. You wouldn’t believe…” 

 

Yuuri let Phichit ramble on while he took in the space. The living area, if you could call it that, was smaller than his bedroom back home. He could see deep red curtains separating what he assumed were the bedrooms, and there was a miniscule kitchenette off to the side. On the opposite side of the kitchen was a single door that Yuuri assumed was the bathroom. 

 

Phichit hadn’t been kidding. It was small. Very small. But it was theirs. 

 

“Phichit.” 

 

Phichit stopped talking immediately and looked anxiously to Yuuri. 

 

“It’s great. Thank you.” The relief on his face was obvious. 

 

“Thanks Yuuri.” He smiled. “So what would you like to do first?”

 

Yuuri looked around for another minute, as though debating. 

 

“Sleep.”

 

* * *

 

  
  
  


There was a familiar twinge of pain in his knee as he stepped out of the elevator. It must be raining. Viktor took a minute to stretch the offending leg, then continued on his way, following the noise. He strode confidently passed the bouncers and into the brightly lit club, nodding and smiling at familiar faces. Otabek slid a glass towards him as he approached the bar. Viktor accepted it gratefully with a nod. 

 

The liquor slid happily down his throat as he ran eyes over the dancefloor. It was early still, but the club was already alive with bodies. Otabek was busier than usual, but J.J. was due to clock in in thirty minutes. He could last until then. 

 

“Celestino said he’s having an issue with one of the dancers. He wants to talk to you tomorrow.” Otabek murmured behind him, leaning over the bar to be heard. Viktor sighed and nodded. 

 

He sipped his drink quietly for a moment, observing, before he was joined by Chris. He looked radiant, in his designer jeans and snug black t-shirt. It did wonders for his complexion. His green eyes flashed mischievously under the flickering lights as group of women walked by them. Otabek wordlessly slid him a drink. 

 

“The blonde,” Chris murmurd, still looking passed Viktor at the women. 

 

“You know there is no point in playing this game anymore. You always end up calling it anyway. I’d be a fool to argue with you.” Viktor smiled at his friend, who was still making eyes at the blonde. 

 

“You’re taking the fun out of it.”

 

“Doesn’t the fun come later?”

 

“Ah, that’s half the fun.” Chris grinned, finally turned to look at Viktor. He frowned. “Is your leg bothering you?” 

 

Was he that obvious? 

 

“A bit. It’s fine.” 

 

Chris ‘hmm’d and looked away. 

 

“What about you?” He asked after a moment. “See anything you like?” Chris asked, glancing around the dancefloor with a smile. 

 

“I’m getting too old for this.” Viktor sighed. 

 

“Don’t you start that nonsense. It’s been, what? Months? Have you hit the year mark yet?” 

 

“No,” Viktor denied. It was close though. But he wouldn’t tell Chris that. “I’m just bored with pulling one night stands.” He admitted quietly, a minute later, causing Chris to turn and look at him. 

 

“Don’t tell me, Viktor Nikiforov is looking to get serious and settle down?” 

 

“Maybe I am. Maybe not. I’m just tired of knowing someone for a night and forgetting their face by morning.” Viktor shrugged, sipping his drink for something to do with his hands. 

 

Chris contemplated him quietly for a minute. 

 

“In one of  _ those _ moods, are you? Want to talk about it?” 

 

“I’m fine, Chris. I’m just… tired. Restless. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

 

“If you say so. But in the meantime, while you’re figuring it out…” 

 

Viktor followed his gaze over the blonde. He laughed. 

 

“Go on then.” 

 

“I will, I’m going to let her think about it for a few more minutes then…” 

 

But whatever Chris was about to do faded away as Viktor’s eye caught on someone across the club. 

 

Two young men had just walked in, they couldn’t have been much over the legal age, and both were foreign. Tourists, perhaps. They got a lot of that sort in the club. But upon closer inspection, perhaps not. 

 

One was smiling, babbling happily, and now that Viktor looked he may have seen him in here before… but his friend… 

 

No, his friend had  _ definitely _ not been here before. 

 

He was  _ adorable _ . A bit short, a bit soft around the middle, with black hair and glasses. He was wearing jeans that must have been five years old, worn shoes, and a blue shirt with some obscure logo that Viktor couldn’t make out. He was obviously uncomfortable, only here by the insistence of his friend. He wasn’t gorgeous, and jaw’s didn’t drop when he walked into the room. But there was… something about him… 

 

Viktor had somehow, in his twenty seven years of life, been unaware that he had a type. But apparently his type was shy, awkward, dark haired japanese boys with oversized glasses. 

 

“Well, he certainly has potential.” Chris murmured next to him. Viktor snapped his mouth shut, aware that he had been caught staring. 

 

Instead of responding, Viktor turned and motioned for Otabek. Otabek walked over and leaned over the counter, listening as Viktor asked, 

“Ever seen them before?”

 

He watched as Otabek’s eyes roamed until they caught ahold of the two men who had begun to make their way across to the bar. 

 

“The taller one, yes. He’s a regular. The other, no.” 

 

Viktor nodded, “Thank you.” and dismissed him to attend to a guy who had just walked up for a drink. 

 

He stood and watched as both boys, no- men, walked closer to where they were standing by the bar. 

 

“Please tell me you’re going to go for it.” Chris said. Viktor smiled, but didn’t answer. 

 

“Just one drink, okay? Then we’ll see if you feel up to dancing.” The taller one was insisting as they came within hearing range. 

 

“One drink then,” The other sighed, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. He ran a hand through his hair, damp from the rain outside. Viktor was internally screaming with glee. 

 

“Try the white russian. I’ve heard they’re to die for.” Chris spoke up, smirking as two pairs of eyes snapped up to look at him. Viktor could have killed him. 

 

“Are they? We’ll take two then.” The taller one smiled to a blank faced Otabek. “I’m Phichit,” He offered, holding out his hand, oblivious. 

 

“Chris, nice to meet you Phichit. This is my friend Viktor.” Viktor had no choice but to shake the kids hand, but when he turned expectantly to his adorable friend, he froze. 

 

The guy was looking at him like he’d seen a ghost. His face had gone pale, his body was locked with one hand crossed over his stomach, gripping his other arm. His wide brown eyes stared up at Viktor with what looked like fear. 

 

Well, that just wouldn’t do. 

 

“And this is Yuuri. Say hello, Yuuri.” Phichit pointedly nudged Yuuri, which seemed to snap him out of it. He blinked and held his hand up mechanically, eyes still stuck on Viktor. Viktor slowly, gently, took his hand and gave him his best smile. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Yuuri.” His hand was warm, and was shaking ever so slightly. It was endearing. 

 

The arrival of Otabek with their drinks saved them from an awkward pause. 

 

“Hey this is really good! What did you say it was called?” Phichit asked Chris. 

 

“A white russian.” Chris smirked, glancing over at Viktor briefly. 

 

Viktor ignored his troublesome friend and asked Yuuri, “Do you like it?”

 

“Um, yes. It’s very good. Thank you.” Yuuri offered, his soft voice making Viktor want to snatch him up and drag him somewhere quieter. 

 

“Are you from here?” Chris asked them. 

 

“Well, I’m originally from Thailand but I moved to Japan when I was eleven. That's where I met Yuuri. Then I moved here a year ago. Yuuri just arrived yesterday. He’s staying with me while we train for the Juilliard competition in May.”

 

“The scholarship competition?” Viktor asked, they both nodded. “My nephew is competing as well.” Viktor offered, smiling. Chris snorted something about ‘nephew’ but Viktor ignored him. “So you’re both dancers?” He asked, becoming more and more invested in the conversation the longer it went on. 

 

“Yep! Since we were kids.” 

 

“What kind of dancing?” Viktor asked, trying not to notice how quickly Yuuri was drinking his drink. 

 

“All kinds. I specialize in more hip hop type stuff, but Yuuri is good at everything.”

 

“Phichit!” Yuuri spluttered, to Viktor’s delight. 

 

“At everything, you say? You should give us a demonstration.” Chris teased, and Viktor could have kissed him for it. 

 

“Oh, no I couldn’t. This isn’t really my scene. I’d be terrible-”

 

“Nonsense, Yuuri. You just haven’t had enough to drink yet.” Phichit said, smiling as he tapped the bottom of Yuuri’s drink, gently nudging it closer to his face. Yuuri silently pleaded at his friend, but drank more nonetheless. Viktor found himself enamored by the blush on his cheeks. 

 

“So what will you do in the meantime?” Chris asked.

 

“Besides train, you mean? I work at a restaurant near our apartment and I spend a lot of time at the local dance studio. Now that Yuuri is finally here I can drag him along with me.” Phichit said happily. Yuuri’s drink was nearly gone. Viktor subtly signaled Otabek for another one. 

 

“So if the competition is in May that gives you, what, three months? Have you decided on what types of performance you’ll do?” He asked, vaguely remembering his nephew raging about it a few days previous. 

 

“Yep, three months. I’m still on the fence, but Yuuri has had his ready for months now, maybe longer.”

 

“Oh? It must be good, then.” Viktor said, smiling as he took the white russian from Otabek and handed it to Yuuri. 

 

“It’s amazing. It’s a tribute to his idol.” 

 

“ _ Phichit _ !” Yuuri practically begged. “It’s just a dance that I like, is all. And it’s okay. It still needs work.” Yuuri spoke up, the alcohol starting to give him courage. 

 

“We’d love to see it, if you’re willing,” Chris said, and Viktor wondered if he was pushing it too far. 

 

“Come one Yuuri, we came here to dance, remember?”

 

“No, you came here to dance and dragged me along to suffer.” Yuuri snapped, face flushed. But despite his words, he took one more heavy sip then set his drink on the bar. Phichit whooped with what must have been victory, because he sat his drink down next to Yuuri’s and grinned at Chris and Viktor before bodily dragging Yuuri to the dance floor. 

 

“You’re welcome.” Chris offered, smirking as they turned to watch. Viktor chose not to respond. 

 

Instead, he watched as Yuuri started to shake the tension out of his body with Phichits encouragement. He could no longer hear what they were saying, but he could see that Phichit was speaking low words of what could have been encouragement in Yuuri’s ear. Whatever it was, it increased the blush in his cheeks tenfold. He was deliberately avoiding looking in their direction. 

 

The song changed then, becoming slower, more charged with a deeper beat. Viktor watched as the stiffness left Yuuri’s body, from a combination of drink and music. His demeanor changed, his face transformed. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back off of his forehead and Viktor was entranced. Phichit began to move, obviously enticing and encouraging. Yuuri smiled at his friend and started to copy, to follow. 

 

His body moved as if his bones were liquid. His back arched, his head tilted back. And then Viktor began to see it. It was his dance.  _ His dance _ , from years ago, that Yakov had videoed and posted online. Viktor would know it anywhere. He could feel it in his body, even now. 

 

A tribute to his idol. 

 

He watched as Yuuri and Phichit interacted with each other physically in a way that would have stirred jealousy in him if he hadn’t witnessed their dynamic only moments ago. They were perfectly in sync, when Yuuri moved Phichit moved, and vice versa. Yuuri laughed and ran his hands down his body, from his chest down to his thighs. Viktor found himself swallowing. 

 

“Chris,” Viktor murmured. 

 

“Yeah?” He asked, still watching Phichit and Yuuri. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

He could  _ hear _ Chris’s answering smirk. 

 

Once the song was over Phichit draped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Yuuri’s face was flushed and he stared up at the ceiling while he listened. Viktor could see the tension returning to his body from where he stood by the bar. 

  
  


The two of them left the dance floor and returned to the space by the bar, Phichit went straight for his drink. Yuuri trailed a bit behind, awkward and fumbling once more. He was so  _ perfect. _

 

“That was amazing. You’re both extremely talented. We have a performance space here at the casino with a team of dancers who perform on the weekends, but the two of you put their skills to shame.” Chris offered. He was being sincere, and he was right. Phichit and Yuuri were much better than anyone they had on staff. An idea began to take flight in Viktors mind. 

 

“Thanks! Dancing is our life, right Yuuri?” Phichit said, elbowing his friend. Yuuri quickly swallowed his remaining drink and nodded, still pink in the cheeks. Viktor signaled for two more white russians. 

 

“Oh no, I can’t. I’ve had too much already. We have to make it back home tonight.” Yuuri stammered. 

 

“Nonsense. I can get you guys a comped room. I know people.” Viktor offered, smiling sweetly as their Otabek set down their drinks.

 

“Ooh really? That would be awesome! I’ve never stayed in a casino before. It’ll be fun Yuuri!” Phichit said, taking both drinks and leaning down and over to look into Yuuri’s face while he nudged the drink into his hand. 

 

Yuuri was looking down at his shoes and just nodded, taking the drink. 

 

“Everything green?” Phichit asked, his voice a bit lower. 

 

Viktor frowned in confusion, glancing to Chris, who shrugged. 

 

“Yeah, everything’s green.” Yuuri said, a bit louder now as he looked up and took a deep breath. The moment between them passed and Phichit smiled brightly. 

 

“Then drink up, and let's dance!”

 

And Yuuri did. He took another long pull on his straw and set his drink down with a bit more force than necessary before allowing Phichit to drag him to the dancefloor once again. Viktor and Chris watched for a while before Chris went to join them, showing off his own moves while simultaneously making eyes at the blonde across the bar. Before long, she and her friends had joined them as well. 

 

Viktor longed to go. He wanted to dance with Yuuri the way Phichit was. Their hands wandered, they laughed, they moved beautifully. 

 

But he knew he couldn’t. Instead he stared wistfully, loving the way Yuuri’s hips moved and his hands roamed over himself under the flashing lights. He was captivated by the way Yuuri would tilt his head back, eyes closed and neck exposed. 

 

Occasionally they would return to the bar to catch their breath and drink before escaping to the music once again, leaving Viktor alone and bereft, his knee throbbing dully. It went on for a few hours, until it was getting quite late. Yuuri trudged back to the bar for the last time, his chest heaving for breath and Phichit followed behind, laughing and tripping over his own feet. 

 

They were both giggling, seemingly forgetting Viktor’s presence until he held out two bottles of iced water. Phichit grinned cheekily as he took one, but Yuuri merely stared at Viktor, eyes wide and lips pink and wet from his tongue and drink. Oh, how Viktor wanted him.

 

“You’ll thank me in the morning.” Viktor murmured, wiggling the bottle in his hand. Yuuri seemed to catch himself and reached out for it. Their fingers brushed. Viktor couldn’t  _ breathe.  _

 

Yuuri unscrewed the cap and drank deeply, a line of water escaping and fleeing down his chin and neck. Viktor bit his tongue. 

 

“Well, I hate to admit it, but I am exhausted. I may fall over.” Phichit groaned, leaning against the bar. 

 

Viktor glanced over to find Chris, who had disappeared. So had the blond woman. Oh well. 

 

“Here, use this. Your room in 1045, you’ll have to swipe your card in the elevator to gain access to floor 35, then again outside your room.” Viktor handed the shiney black key card to Yuuri, who gaped at it with wide eyes. 

 

“Awesome! Come on Yuuri, or I may fall asleep on the bar.” Phichit said, the end of his sentence punctuated by a yawn. 

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri offered softley to Viktor. His glasses were sliding down his nose. 

 

Viktor reached out with one finger and gently nudged them back up and into place. He smiled at Yuuri’s frozen expression. 

 

“Anytime, Yuuri. Sleep well.” 

 

Viktor watched as Yuuri forced his eyes away and grabbed Phichits arm. They leaned on each other as they made their way out of the club, following casino signs to the hotel elevators. He kept watching until they had turned a corner and he could see them no more. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri was  _ so warm _ … 

 

He was dancing. His hand on the barre, soft sunlight coming through the bay windows. His body was as light as air. There was a flash of bright silver, and he woke up. 

 

There was sunlight, and windows. He blinked, feeling heavy and over sensitive. The air hurt. Groaning, he rolled over, trying to escape the light. He came in contact with something hard, and warm. 

 

Yuuri opened his eyes, more awake now. 

 

Phichit was laying next to him, fully clothes and snoring softly. Yuuri looked around the room, they were in a large bed inside a bland yet tastefully decorated hotel suite. The curtains were open, letting in late morning light. It was quite. Peaceful. 

 

He hauled himself up until he was sitting. 

 

The movement woke Phichit, who blinked blearily up at him, smacking dry lips with a grimace. Yuuri was starting to remember. 

 

“Did last night really happen?” He whispered. His nose was sore from sleeping with his glasses pressed to his face. 

 

“If you’re asking if we drank and danced all night while some pretty guy who looked suspiciously like the guy you’ve been obsessed with since we were fifteen undressed you with his eyes, then yes. I think it did.” Phichit offered, smiling absently as he looked around the room. “Where’s my phone?” He mumbled, wiggling around and searching the bed. 

 

Yuuri sat still while Phichit jostled the covers around them, his hands creeping up to his face as he recalled the events of last night. How much he had drank, the way he had danced. He was slowly being overcome with mortification. 

 

“Yuuri? Are you okay?” Phichit asked, pausing his search attempt and leaning over to look at his face. 

 

“I can’t believe we did that. I can’t believe _ I  _ did that.” 

 

“I asked you if everything was green. You said yes. You didn’t use your safeword. Do you feel like you should have?” Phichit asked gently. 

 

“I… no. No, it was green. I know I told you to help me get passed my anxiety. It’s fine. It’s just… I just can’t believe I did that.” Yuuri whispered hesitantly, somewhat in shock, hands still over his face. 

 

“I know. You were so awesome.” Phichit said next to him, Yuuri could hear the grin in his voice. 

 

“Was I? Are you sure? I wasn’t being stupid, was I? I didn’t make myself look like an idiot?” Yuuri asked, turning to look at him through his fingers. 

 

“Yuuri, if everyone in that club didn’t fall in love with you by then end of it, then they must have the sex drive of a hair brush. You. Were. Amazing.” Phichit insisted, nudging him on the shoulder. Yuuri felt himself smile. 

 

“Thanks, Phichit. I-”

 

They were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Yuuri yelped, pulling the covers up to his chest, even though he was fully clothed. Phichit jumped out of the bed and ran into the sitting area and to the door. Yuuri heard him open it, heard the murmur of conversation, and a minute later he heard the door shut. He didn’t move. 

 

“Yuuri! Get in here!” Phichit called, voice laced with… something. 

 

Yuuri slowly slid out of the bed, peeking through the doorway. Phichit was standing next to a breakfast cart on wheels. It was silver and gleaming, covered in plates, drinks, and cutlery. Yuuri walked closer as Phichit grabbed a white card that was propped up against of vase of white roses. Real roses. They smelled lovely. 

 

Phichit was staring at the card, grinning. 

 

“What does it say?” Yuuri whispered. Phichit handed him the card. It was thick white paper, with a hand written note. 

  
  


**Yuuri,**

 

**I would be delighted if you and Phichit would join me for dinner tonight at Jia at seven. Until then, please enjoy this lunch on me. I’ve also taken the liberty of booking you both a few hours at the spa, so that you’re not bored. My nephew will be around at 1 for your answer.**

 

**Yours,**

**Viktor**

  
  


Yuuri couldn’t move. His mind was stuttering, confused. That was his name, yes. It was even spelled correctly. But this note couldn’t have been meant for him. He gazed around the room blankly, as though looking for some other, more attractive man named Yuuri. But there was no one there but Phichit. 

 

Phichit, who was talking to him. 

 

“He must be a big shot manager or something, if he’s able to pull all of this. Wow. Yuuri? Can you hear me?” 

 

“What?” Yuuri tried to ask, but nothing came out but air. He tried again, “What?”

 

“Are you freaking out?” Phichit asked. Strange, was he smiling? It looked like he was smiling. Yuuri nodded. 

 

“Sit down. Breathe.” Phichit ordered, gently pushing him back onto the couch. Yuuri allowed it, feeling as though his ears were full of cotton. “Breathe.” Phichit reminded him. 

 

Yuuri breathed. Looked at the note again. Yes, his name was still there. Looked at the cart. There was a lot of food there. Those roses were real. Real roses. He breathed again. 

 

“Phichit, what do I do?” he asked, feeling his hands shake as he held the card up. 

 

“Do you want to have dinner with him?” 

 

“I… I don’t know.”

 

“Okay, let's back up a bit further. Do you like him?”

 

Yuuri nodded hesitantly.

 

“Do you want to see him again?”

 

Again, he hesitated. But nodded. 

 

“Then I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to eat this lovely lunch he sent. Then we’re going to talk to his nephew before we go down to the spa and get pampered. Then, we’re going to meet him for dinner and see what he has to say. Okay?”

 

Yuuri could only nod.

 

“Great!” Phichit smiled happily, clapping his hands together. “Do you want this mimosa?”

  
  
  


The food was incredible. Yuuri wasn’t able to truly appreciate it, as his stomach felt like it was full of angry snakes on cocaine, but what bits he was able to eat were heaven. They had enough time to enjoy lunch and then take turns showering. The bathroom was all bright lights, mirrors, and shining marble. Yuuri wasn’t exactly comfortable seeing his imperfections from so many angles at once, but whatever. 

 

They had no choice but to put on the same clothes from the night before, but when the knock came at the door at one they were both dressed and ready. 

 

Phichit answered it. Viktor’s nephew was… not what Yuuri had expected. 

 

He was short, blonde, and angry. Very angry. 

 

“So are you coming to dinner with Viktor or what?” He asked harshly, still standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His pants were leopard print. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen. Yuuri was so confused. 

 

“Yep!” Phichit chimed cheerily, unaffected by the sudden hostility. The kid just glared. Then turned on his heel and left. Yuuri and Phichit looked at each other. 

 

“Maybe he’s adopted?” Phichit asked. 

 

Unexpectedly, Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh. 

  
  


They strode down to the spa, Yuuri listened to Phichit yammering on, allowed Phichit to take a selfie of them to post, and generally tried to stay calm. He had almost achieved it, but then they walked into the spa. Chris was standing at the front desk. 

 

Yuuri felt his body lock up, but Phichit waved enthusiastically. 

 

“Chris! Hello!” He called. Chris looked up from a conversation he was having with a young man to smile at them. 

 

“Hello there friends. Sleep well?” He asked with a wink. 

 

“Yeah, we did. Viktor sent us down here.” 

 

“Yes, I have a full afternoon booked for you both. We have massages first, then some time in the sauna or hot tub, your choice. After that we have facials, pedicures, scalp massage….” 

 

Chris kept talking, and Yuuri couldn’t speak. He could feel Phichit glancing at him. 

 

“So are you ready?” Chris asked, smirking. 

 

“Yuuri? Everything green?”Phichit whispered. 

 

“Yeah. Everything’s green.” Yuuri breathed back. 

  
  
  


Yuuri had never had a professional massage before. They were taken to private rooms to undress, and given robes made of some soft fuzzy material that Yuuri couldn’t help but be in awe of somewhere deep under the stress that filled his body. The room after that was dimly lit, and smelled lovely. Lavender, maybe. With eucalyptus. There were two beds covered with crisp white sheets, with holes for their faces so they would be looking down at the floor. Yuuri and Phichit took off their robes and laid down, sliding under the sheets. They had been warmed before hand.

 

“This is so cool,” Phichit whispered loudly as they waited. Yuuri could only swallow dryly. 

 

When the door opened, it hit Yuuri like a blast of cold air that he was lying on a bed, face down, completely naked save a thin white sheet. His anxiety began to rear its head and he struggled to breathe. He wasn’t sure he could do this. 

 

“Hello, my name is Mila. This is my friend Sara. We’ll be your masseuses today. Are there any specific areas that are causing you pain?” She asked, her voice soft and what Yuuri was sure was meant to be soothing. But she could have been screaming and it would have had the same effect on him. 

 

“Hmm, we’re dancers so we get a lot of aches everywhere. Maybe our feet? I don’t know. What do you think Yuuri?” Phichit said, remarkably and infuriatingly calm as always. Yuuri couldn’t speak. He just shook his head and did his best to shrug his shoulders in the position he was in. 

 

“Understandable. We’ll start with your back and shoulders and work our way out from there.” Mila murmured. She was closer now. Yuuri couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get air into his lungs. His vision was dimming. 

 

Then a hand came to rest so gently on his back, between his shoulder blades. He tensed immediately, nearly jumping out of his skin. 

 

“Viktor told me you’d be nervous. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, Yuuri. If you want me to stop, just say so. Okay?” Mila whispered. She had leaned down and spoke close to his ear, for only him to hear. Her hand was still a gentle but firm pressure on his back. He could only nod. 

 

She kept her hand still for a moment more, then began to move. Slow, soothing circles on his back. Then she applied her other hand and began. 

 

Slowly, Yuuri began to relax. It did feel good, once he was able to focus on her hands instead of the noise in his head. Phichit and Sara spoke amiably to each other across the room, but Mila didn’t try to make conversation with him, for which he was grateful. She merely ran her hands along his body slowly, applying gentle pressure in certain spots. The longer it went on, the better in began to feel. Yuuri was able to breathe, and she soothed out tension in muscles he didn’t realize existed. 

 

Once she finished his back, she extended to his shoulders, neck, and arms. Then she skipped over his rear to gently massage his thighs. By the time she made her way down to his feet, he was considering asking her to marry him. 

 

At the end of it, Mila and Sara said goodbye and left them to slip back into their robes and Yuuri had never been so physically at ease in his life. He felt so soft and pliable. Ready to dance. 

 

“That was amazing,” Phichit breathed, leaning against the table next to him. Yuuri hummed and nodded. 

 

They left the room and were shown the hot tub and sauna. Sara brought them mimosa’s with a smile and left them to remove their robes and slip into the hot water. 

 

Yuuri and Phichit had seen each other naked on many occasions, and he was the only person Yuuri could undress in front of without panicking. He wasn’t comfortable with his body by any means, but he was sure that Phichit would never judge him. As they sat opposite each other in the hot tub, holding their mimosa’s above the water, Yuuri was suddenly struck with appreciation for his friend. 

 

After all, he wouldn’t be there if not for Phichit. 

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, pushing his glasses up on top of his head as the lenses became so covered in steam that he couldn’t see through them. He half expected Phichit to ask what for, but he didn’t. 

 

“You’re my best friend, Yuuri.” He said instead. Yuuri smiled. 

 

“You’re my best friend, too.” 

  
  
  


By the time the two of them left the spa, Yuuri felt amazing. Their clothes had been returned to them dry cleaned, leaving them feeling fresh and excited as they headed down to dinner. The endorphins had given him a surge in confidence, and he was looking forward to seeing Viktor. 

 

_ Jia  _ was a japanese restaurant on the ground floor of the casino. It was dimly lit, covered in dark glossy wooden surfaces and lush green plants. Yuuri and Phichit gave Viktors name to the host and were led to a long table that was roped off in the back of the restaurant. It was private and secluded, while still giving them a view of the rest of the floor. Yuuri and Phichit sat down alone, and waited. 

 

“What in the world does he  _ do _ ?” Yuuri asked, glancing to the VIP sign that hung from the rope. 

 

“Maybe he’s yakuza.” Phichit joked. Yuuri glared at him. 

 

Before long, however, they were joined by Chris. He sat across from them with a smile just as a waiter came and wordlessly set four iced glasses of water on the table between them. 

 

“Good evening. Viktor will be along in a moment, he got held up.” Chris offered. “Have you looked over the menu?” he inquired. 

 

Yuuri shook his head while Phichit grabbed two menus from down the table. He handed one to Yuuri, who was starting to feel his anxiety come back. Boldly, he flagged down their waiter. 

 

“Could I have a white russian please?” He asked. Chris smirked at him. 

 

“Oh, me too!” Phichit said. The waiter nodded and left. 

 

The next time Yuuri looked up from his menu, he saw Viktor. He was made his way easily through the tables toward them, eyes already on Yuuri. Yuuri swallowed and took a sip of his water. 

 

“Hello,” He offered, smiling. 

 

“Hi,” Yuuri murmured, while Phichit grinned. 

 

“Let’s order first, I’m starving.” Chris said, though he wasn’t looking at the menu at all. 

 

When their waiter came back with their drinks, Viktor gave Yuuri a very brief and bright smile that he didn’t quite understand, before giving his order. When it came around to be Yuuri’s turn, he stammered,

 

“Ah, do you have katsudon?” 

 

“Umm…” The waiter paused. 

 

“Fetch Jia, please, Sean.” Viktor ordered gently. The waiter nodded and left. 

 

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter-” Yuuri tried. 

 

“No, no, it’s fine! You’re japanese, right?” Viktor asked, smiling. Yuuri nodded. “Is katsudon a japanese dish?” Yuuri nodded again. “Then I’d like to know if Jia can make it. I’d like to try it too.” He smiled. Yuuri’s chest felt too tight. It hurt. He only had a moment to mentally examine it before an older japanese man in a clean white apron approached their table.

 

“Good evening Viktor,” he said amiably, looking around their table. 

 

“Good evening Jia, these are my friends, Yuuri and Phichit. Yuuri was wondering if you could make, what was it Yuuri?”

 

“K-katsudon,” Yuuri stuttered, blushing furiously. 

 

“Anata wa Nihon karadesu ka?” Jia asked, to Yuuri’s delight. 

 

“Hai,” Yuuri replied, smiling nervously. 

 

“Watashi wa anata katsudon tsukuru tame ni shiawase ni narimasu,” Jia offered with a short bow. 

 

“Dōmo arigatōgozaimasu!” Yuuri enthused, sensing a radiant smile from Viktor’s direction. 

 

“Make that two, please Jia.” Viktor added. Jia smiled at him and bowed once again before leaving the table. 

 

“So what is Katsudon?” Chris asked, leaning an elbow on the table. 

 

“Ah, it’s pork cutlet served with egg over rice. It’s my favorite. It’s very good.” Yuuri answered, face still warm. 

 

“Yuuri’s mom makes the  _ best  _ katsudon,” Phichit added, his eyes misting over. “I haven’t had it in  _ sooo loooong _ .” 

 

“Aww I want to try Yuuri’s mom’s katsudon.” Viktor whined, to Yuuri’s shock and amusement. 

 

“I would tell her to send some, but I doubt it would still be good by the time it got here.” Yuuri offered, feeling like a total dork. 

 

“That’s okay. Yuuri’s family owns a hot springs hotel. You can just go visit and stay in the hotel Viktor.” Phichit said cheekily. Yuuri tried to kick him violently under the table, but the jerk must have been expecting it, because he moved his leg just in time. 

 

“Ohhhh! Yuuuuuuri! I must go stay in the hot spring hotel!” Viktor crowed, his eyes big and his mouth making the most adorable heart shaped smile Yuuri had ever seen. He was so enamored that he forgot to answer. Chris came to his rescue. 

 

“You can’t take a vacation right now Viktor.” He said, amused. 

 

“I can do whatever I want.” Viktor argued, obviously pouting. 

 

“So what exactly  _ do _ you do?” Phichit asked as their appetizers were sat in front of them. Yuuri picked up a piece of calamari with his chopsticks. 

 

“Oh, he owns the casino.” Chris said, smirking with his chin in his hand. Yuuri dropped the calamari. 

 

“What! You  _ own _ it?” Phichit exclaimed. 

 

“Nooo, I don’t own it. I just run it. My priyemnyy otets owns it.” Viktor said, smiling. 

 

“You might as well own it.” Chris said, with a sigh. “You know Yakov is going to give it to you.” 

 

“So you’re from Russia?” Phichit asked. 

 

“Da.” Viktor answered sweetly. Yuuri’s head was spinning. He took a sip of his drink. 

 

A white russian. Yuuri choked and put it down, staring at it accusingly. He saw Chris wink at him. 

 

“That's so cool! So why did you move to america?” Phichit asked, finally noticing that there was food in front of them. 

 

“When my parents died, my adoptive father took me in. He has many businesses here in america. He began grooming me so that when I came of age I could run one of them. He wanted someone in america that he could trust. So here I am.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that your parents died.” Phichit offered. 

 

“It’s okay. It was many years ago.” Viktor waved a hand, smiling kindly. 

 

Their waiter arrived, bearing entrees. He placed a plate of sushi in front of both Phichit and Chris, then huge steaming bowls of katsudon in front of Viktor and Yuuri. 

 

“Merci,” Chris winked at Sean, who grinned. 

 

It smelled amazing, and it was beautiful. Yuuri had eaten katsudon at many different places, but this was the first time he’d ever seen one that might rival his mothers. As he took his first bite, he thought he might cry. 

 

“Vkusno!” Viktor cried happily around a mouth full of food, one hand on his cheek as he chewed happily. “This is so good Yuuri!” 

 

Yuuri was so unbelievably happy in that moment. To be sitting across from someone like Viktor, eating his favorite food and having Viktor eat it too. And Viktor loved it, if his face was anything to judge by. 

 

And he was russian. Like the silver dancer. Coincidence? Yuuri never did find out his name, but someone like that would have pursued dancing as a career. Viktor was lithe and graceful, but obviously not a dancer. 

 

But his hair… his face, his hands. His slender frame. Could it possibly be him? How could Yuuri be sure?

 

“So, Yuuri… I have a proposition for you.” Viktor began. His voice had changed, it was deeper, sensual. Yuuri found himself caught in those blue eyes and felt the motion around the table still. Viktor had an elbow on the tabletop, his hand still holding his chopsticks as he appraised Yuuri with a smile. 

 

“I want you to come dance here.” Viktor stated. 

 

“W-what?” Yuuri said, stunned.

 

“We told you both last night, you’re way better than anyone we have on staff here. We have a team who perform every weekend, and I want you to join it. You too, Phichit. I want our other staff to see you dance and to learn from you.” Yuuri was speechless. He was being offered a job? But Viktor wasn’t done. “I’ll pay you handsomely, of course. More than enough for you to provide for yourself. Or if you’d like, you can move here to cut down commute. I have plenty of empty suites.” Yuuri was gaping, he knew he was. He tried to speak but Phichit cut in. 

 

“What kind of pay? How many hours? Do you have a schedule? Would you be able to accommodate our training for the competition? Do you have a rehearsal space we can use?” He began, firing off questions when Yuuri could only stare. 

 

“Negotiable. Also negotiable. We can make one, together. Yes. Yes.” Viktor answered easily. 

 

“And these empty suites, what are they like? Is it the one we stay in last night? That one only had one bedroom. Would we still get paid if we moved here?”

 

“I can show you the ones we have available and you can choose for yourself. We have two, three, and four bedroom suites. And yes, you would still get paid.”

 

“Can you have employment contracts written up for us to look at and then give us time to decide?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Okay.” Phichit said, satisfied. Yuuri was still gaping. 

 

Phichit placed a hand on his arm. 

 

“Yuuri, everything green?” he whispered. Yuuri yanked his gaze away from Viktor’s perfect face and turned to look at his friend. He could see the concealed excitement in Phichits eyes. 

 

“Yeah. Everything’s green.” 

  
  


Dinner went smoothly after that, though Yuuri didn’t join in conversation any more. He wasn’t able to finish all of his food either, anxiety taking his stomach and twisting it into knots. Viktor had the rest of their food boxed up to take home, and he and Chris walked them out to the casino’s front entrance. 

 

He wouldn’t allow them to take a cab. Instead, a sleek black limo pulled up to the curb. Yuuri could see their reflections in the window. His face looked pale and sweaty. He hated it. 

 

“Thank you, again. This has been really awesome.” Phichit said, standing next to Yuuri by the car. 

 

“It was my pleasure. I’ll have an employment contract sent to you by the end of the week. Call me once you’ve gotten it and talked it over.” Viktor held out a card to Yuuri, who took it with trembling hands. He was smiling, but Yuuri was having trouble looking at him. It was like staring at the sun. 

 

The card read  _ Viktor Nikiforov _ , with his accompanying information. But his personal number was also hand written on the back. Yuuri stared at it, trying to remember how to make words come out of his mouth. 

 

“Um, okay.” Yuuri replied, finally looking up at him. 

 

“I look forward to hearing from you, Yuuri.” Viktor said softly, with his perfect heart shaped mouth. Yuuri swallowed. 

 

Phichit dragged him into the limo and waved goodbye, grinning and shouting that they’d be seeing them soon. 

 

Phichit could not stop talking the entire ride back to their tiny apartment. It was only a forty minute drive, but it felt like  _ hours. _ When they walked into the door, Yuuri was struck again by how tiny it was. He felt cramped and suffocated after spending the day in such a massive space. Phichit went into the kitchenette to make them a pot of tea while Yuuri fell onto the couch. 

 

“So what do you think, Yuuri?” Phichit finally asked, sitting down and handing Yuuri a hot mug. He sipped it gratefully. 

 

“I don’t know, Phichit… it’s… it’s a lot.” 

 

“Yeah, it is. But it could be a really amazing opportunity. And it could be so much  _ fun.”  _

 

“Do you think so?”

 

_ “Yuuuuuuuuriii!” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in order of appearance:
> 
> (I don't speak these languages. I speak english and google. I'm sorry if they're wrong!) 
> 
> Are you from Japan?
> 
> Yes. 
> 
> I would be happy to make Katsudon for you. 
> 
> Thank you very much! 
> 
>  
> 
> adoptive father


	3. Chapter 3

It had only been three days, but Viktor feared the wait might  _ actually kill him.  _

 

He had harassed his team of lawyers relentlessly for forty eight hours, insisting that they’re sure to put  _ this _ in the contract, make sure that  _ that _ was clear, offer  _ this _ , and is it ready yet? Has it been sent? Do they have delivery confirmation??

 

He had received confirmation yesterday. But he hadn’t gotten a call. He was  _ dying. _

 

Chris kept telling him to wait, to be patient, to give them time. Wasn’t a full day enough? Maybe the contract hadn’t been good enough. Maybe he hadn’t offered enough money. He should have insisted on showing them the suites beforehand. Should he call them? Should he send a gift? Does Yuuri like flowers? What kind of flowers would he like?

 

Yuri was less patient with him than Chris. 

 

“Why are they so fucking important anyway? You could have your pick of dancers. They didn’t look special to me. Especially the fat one.” He grumbled unpleasantly from Viktors couch. His shiny black combat boots were propped up on Viktors antique coffee table. Viktor purposefully strode between him and the table, knocking his feet to the floor. 

 

“Because, Yuratchka, I find him fascinating. And he’s  _ so cute _ . I want him to come dance for me. Don’t you want your favorite uncle to be happy?” 

 

Yuri stared at Viktor, rebelliously throwing his boots back up on the coffee table. Viktor chose to ignore it. 

 

“You’re not my uncle. And I don’t give a shit about your happiness. Your moping is driving me  _ insane _ .” He grouched. 

 

“Of course I’m your uncle, Yuri. Now be a dear and be quiet. I have to call the lawyers.”

 

“You just got off the phone with them. Not even fifteen minutes ago.”

 

“A lot can happen in fifteen minutes!” 

 

“You’re insufferable. I’m going down to the bar.” Yuri stood and strode to the door, stomping with his heavy boots. 

 

“You’re not old enough to be in the bar.”

 

Yuri responded with a finger as he walked out the door. Viktor sighed fondly. 

 

It was early evening, and the casino’s busiest hours were about to start. Viktor paced in front of his living room window, thumbnail in his mouth. 

 

“What if he never calls, Maccachin? What will I do?” He asked softly. The dog merely stared at him from his spot on the couch, wagging his fluffy tail. 

 

Viktor was just considering slipping his shoes on and going down to the bar as well, anything to distract him, when his intercom buzzed. 

 

“Yes?” He asked, holding down the talk key on the wall. 

 

“There are two gentlemen here to see you, Mr. Nikiforov.” A staticy voice said.

 

“Who?” Viktor asked, clenching his hand in the front of his shirt. 

 

“Ah, misters Chulanont and Katsuki.” 

 

“I’ll be right down.” Viktor responded, in his calmest voice. As soon as he took his finger off the button, he pumped his fist into the air and  _ screamed.  _

 

He scrambled for his shoes and keys, checking his hair quickly in the living room mirror, and left his suite. He had to force himself to walk normally, force himself to school his expression. The walk down to the front desk took way too long. He needed more elevators. Perhaps some secret passages. Hmm. That might not be a bad idea. 

 

He was daydreaming about secret passages and what he might do with them, or what he might do to a certain cute japanese boy  _ in _ them, when he entered the main hall. 

 

Yuuri and Phichit were waiting, talking to each other softly as business continued around them. Viktor had a moment to admire Yuuri before the pair saw him. He couldn’t help but internally squirm with glee as he saw Yuuri’s cheeks pinken at the sight of him. 

 

“What a pleasant surprise!” Viktor said as he approached. 

 

“Hi, Viktor. We got your contract. We’d like to see the suites, if you have time.” Phichit said, smiling as Yuuri just fidgeted next to him. He was wearing a deep blue sweater that made him look even softer than Viktor remembered. 

 

“I always have time for you.” He answered, letting his gaze rest on Yuuri at the end of his sentence. “Please, this way.” 

 

Viktor led them back to the elevators and up to his floor. His personal suite was on floor thirty seven, which was the top floor of the hotel. There were five other rooms on thirty seven. One was occupied by Chris and one by his nephew, leaving the remaining three vacant. Viktor was dearly hoping that Phichit and Yuuri would chose a suite on the same floor as his. He wanted Yuuri as close as possible. 

 

He explained the layout of the suites as they took the elevator up. The three available suites on thirty seven were all two bedroom, two bath. Floor thirty six had six suites that were three bedrooms, two bath, and thirty five had two one bedrooms, and two four bedrooms. Phichit nodded along as Viktor spoke, explaining that some of the lower apartments were currently lived in by staff, but that he was  _ sure  _ they’d find one they liked. 

 

When they arrived on thirty seven and stepped out into the long and brightly lit hallway, Viktor pointed out the individual apartments. Chris’s was right outside the elevator, while Viktors was all the way at the other end of the hall. Yuri’s was closer to the middle on the right, while the one next to his and the two opposite were empty. 

 

Viktor walked them through each apartment, showing them each the features that came with them. But he saved the one directly next to his for last. In anticipation of showing it to Phichit and Yuuri, Viktor had this suite in particular undergo some quick renovations over the last few days. 

 

Cleaning and brand new top of the line appliances were a given. But Viktor was more interested in bedrooms and colorschemes. He also had two large soaking tubs added to each bathroom, as he knew that dancing for a living was hard on the body. 

 

Though, the main reason Viktor was partial to this apartment was that one of the bedrooms, the one he had in mind for Yuuri, was directly beside his own bedroom. His bed and Yuuri’s would only be separated by one wall. The thought of being so close to Yuuri made him ache. 

 

When he led them through and into the room, which he had had redone in shades of blue, he watched Yuuri and Phichit walk in and kept a close eye on their expressions. Phichit appeared to love everything equally, while Yuuri was much harder to read. 

 

He watched as Yuuri stood by the large plush bed, his fingers trailing over the comforter while Phichit checked the view out of the bay window. As Phichit walked into the en suite and exclaimed loudly about the soaking tub, Viktor took the moment of privacy to slowly approach him. 

 

“What do you think?” He murmured. Yuuri’s face snapped up to him. His eyes were shiny behind his glasses, but he was frowning. 

 

“I don’t understand why you’re offering this to us.” Yuuri whispered. Viktor inhaled, searching for the right thing to say. What could he do to comfort him? What could he offer to convince him?

 

Viktor had never been good with things like this. He didn’t know how to comfort people, he didn’t know how to express the type of emotion he was feeling. 

 

Instead of speaking, he closed the small distance between them on a whim. He reached up slowly, and pressed his fingers to Yuuri’s cheek. He stared up at Viktor with wide brown eyes, seemingly fascinated and terrified. Viktor ran his fingers down Yuuri’s soft cheek until he was running them over Yuuri’s bottom lip. 

 

“Yuuri, I…” Viktor wasn’t sure what he was going to do, what he was going to say, but the moment was stolen from them as Phichit voice, louder now, interceded on their moment. Yuuri jumped back like he was electrocuted, blushing furiously, just before Phichit walked back into the room. 

 

“Okay so the tubs are nice. Those would definitely come in handy. I like the walk into showers too, and it has a lot of space. Could I have a few minutes to talk to Yuuri while we decide?” He asked, completely oblivious. 

 

“Of course.” Viktor answered, smiling. He glanced at Yuuri once more, but Yuuri wouldn’t look at him. “I’ll be outside. Take all the time you need.” 

 

Viktor left the suite and shut the door behind him. The hall was quiet, and he could hear the mad beating of his own heart. Would he have kissed Yuuri just then? It was too soon. Much too soon. But to be honest, he’s not sure he would have stopped himself. He wasn’t in control. He needed to take a step back, give him some space. The _ last _ thing he wanted was to scare him away. 

 

He paced the hall for what couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but it felt like hours. When Phichit and Yuuri finally emerged, Viktor stilled, trying not to look as anxious as he felt. But he needed have worried. 

 

“We’ll take this one.” Phichit declared happily. 

 

“Wonderful! When would you like to move in?” Viktor asked, clapping his hands together. 

 

“Well we’ll need time to pack up our apartment. We don’t have much but we’ll need to hire movers and-”

 

“No, no, don’t worry about that. I’ll have someone collect your things. Just give me a date.” 

 

Phichit glanced over at Yuuri who appeared to be considering. 

 

“A week?” He questioned softly. “That’ll give you time to put in your notice at the restaurant.” He said to Phichit. 

 

“I’ve already put in my notice, Wednesday is my last shift.” Phichit responded. 

 

“How about I have movers come Thursday then? That way you’ll have Thursday night and all day Friday to unpack and you can meet our dancers on Saturday.” Viktor offered. 

 

“Can we have it all packed by Thursday?” Yuuri asked Phichit. 

 

“Yeah, I think we can.” Phichit smiled. Yuuri nodded. 

 

“Okay. Thursday then.” 

 

Viktor had been glancing back and forth between them as they debated, and he resisted the urge to jump into the air in victory as they agreed. Thursday was only five days away. 

 

“Otlichno! I’ll send them around Thursday, shall we say eleven? I’ll send a car for you as well. This is so exciting! Let me know if you need anything in the meantime, da?” He offered his hand out and Phichit shook it immediately. 

 

When it came to be Yuuri’s turn, Viktor expected him to hesitate. He was surprised when Yuuri reached out with determination and grasped his hand. His fingers were soft and warm and Viktor wanted to  _ melt.  _

 

With a bit of confidence, Yuuri would be a force to fear. Viktor was sure of it. 

 

He escorted them back down to the main lobby and out the doors, bidding them farewell as they slid into another limousine that would take them home. As he watched it drive away, Chris approached him. 

 

“Congratulations,” He offered, smiling. 

 

“You were watching.” Viktor stated, not really surprised. 

 

“Of course. Don’t cover the hallways in cameras if you don’t want to be watched.” Chris said. “I’ve let the rest of the security team know to look out for them, as you requested. Background checks came out clear. I had the files sent up to your rooms.” 

 

“Thank you, Chris. Dinner? I’m starving.”  Viktor asked as they walked back into the lobby. 

 

“What are you in the mood for?”

 

“Katsudon.”

 

* * *

  
  
The bouncers used to try to stop Yuri from getting into the club, but they didn’t bother anymore. 

 

He strode passed them arrogantly, heading straight for the bar. Apparently word had gotten around, because lately the stool at the end was never occupied. Throwing a shrieking bitch fit on six separate occasions had done the trick. 

 

Yuri sat down in his usual seat and was almost immediately greeted with a drink. 

 

“Altin.” He nodded, wrapping his fingers around the glass. 

 

“Plisetsky.” Altin nodded in return, then left him to his drink. 

 

That was as far as they ever got. Yuri had been in America for nearly a year, and hadn’t bothered to try socializing until a few months ago. The first time he had gotten into the club, after a few tussles with the bouncers and many calls to Viktor, he had stormed up to the bar and demanded a drink. 

 

Altin, unknown to him at the time, had told him no. 

 

Yuri Plisetsky didn’t like to be told no. Yuri Plisetsky got what he wanted. 

 

But still, even after the insults, the threats, the destruction of casino property, Altin still told him no. Yuri Plisetsky, having never  _ not _ gotten his way, was unsure on how to proceed when it actually happened. 

 

Apparently he proceeded by acquiescing. 

 

So he found himself sitting at the bar a couple of nights a week, sipping a drink that always  _ looked _ alcoholic but never actually  _ was _ , trying to puzzle out the stoic figure that was Otabek Altin. 

 

After the initial arguments, they seemed to form a silent agreement. Yuri kept his mouth and temper in check, and Altin made sure that no one bothered him. It worked. 

 

Except that Yuri kind of did want to be bothered. But not by the sweaty meat sacks making fools of themselves on the dance floor. No, he was more interested in the bartender. But Altin never said more than two words to him. Besides keeping his drink full, he ignored Yuri. Which both pleased and infuriated him. 

 

Yuri wasn’t used to wanting. Delayed gratification was a new thing for him, and he wasn’t sure how to turn what he wanted, i.e. Altins attention, into something he received. So instead he just sat at the bar, drinking some purple frozen concoction that tastes like pineapple, watching him inconspicuously. But while he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted exactly when he wanted it, he was also unaccustomed to being unsure of himself. He felt awkward and self conscious, and he  _ hated _ it. 

 

He was only able to sit and behave for an hour before he started to get antsy, the lights and sounds and obnoxious laughter of the people next to him grated on his nerves. But he didn’t want to leave. He tried to occupy himself by focusing on his drink. It worked splendidly, until he was sucking at the dregs of blue ice at the bottom of the glass. 

 

But an empty glass seemed like a personal affront to Otabek, who appeared as if called. He took the glass wordlessly, and left to fetch him another. A wobbly brunette leaned against the bar a foot away from Yuri, seeking out a drink. She wore too much perfume. 

 

When Otabek returned with another drink for Yuri, this one green, the brunette reached out and placed her hand on his arm. The touch drew both Altin and Yuri’s attention. 

 

“What can I get you?” Altin asked drawing his arm away gently. 

 

“A rum and coke, please. A phone number wouldn’t go amiss either.” She hinted blatantly. Yuri stared at her, a bit shocked. She was pretty, he guessed, and well groomed. Not sloppy like some women seemed to be when they drank. Her eyes were dark and her lips were very red. Her cleavage was shown to advantage as she leaned against the bar. 

 

“Fuck off, hag. He isn’t interested.” Yuri growled. He really couldn’t help himself. She turned to look at him, wide eyed. Yuri could feel Altin’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. 

 

Her flirtation made him angry. Irrationally angry. Yuri wasn’t stupid, he knew he was crushing on Altin pretty hard. Yuri had never desired anyone like this before, and he wasn’t quite sure yet how to handle it. But letting some ditzy bimbo get the guys number right in front of him couldn’t help his case. 

 

Her wide eyes narrowed in anger. 

 

“Wow, and who are you? His little boyfriend? Please,” She scoffed. 

 

“I’m no one’s little  _ anything _ ,” He hissed, getting up to shove up into her face. She was taller than him with her heels on, but he didn’t give a fuck. “Take your skank ass out of here and repulse someone else.” 

 

“What the fuck, dude. Whatever.” She spat, much less wobbly as she pulled away from the bar and left them alone. 

 

Altin was staring at him. 

 

“The fuck are you looking at?” He asked, sitting back down on his barstool. 

 

And there it was, a hint of a smile. Altin’s lip turned up at the corner, slightly, but it was impossible to miss. 

 

“My hero, saving me from handsy drunk women.” Altin said tonelessly, tiny bit of a smirk still in place. 

 

“Fuck off Altin. Give me my drink.”

 

And to Yuri’s amazement, Altin leaned back and grabbed a bottle of vodka and poured one quick shot into Yuri’s green surprise. Then he set it down in front of Yuri with a solid thunk on the bartop. 

 

“That’s what it takes to get alcohol around here? I have to insult chicks who hit on you?” He grouched, yanking his drink closer to him as though Altin might snatch it back. 

 

Instead of answering Yuri, he just winked at him and left him alone with his drink. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is lovingly dedicated to my loyal reviewer, i_am_chihoko. Thank you for your continued support!

It only took two days for Yuuri and Phichit to pack up their apartment. 

 

Which left them, Yuuri more so than Phichit as Phichit still had shifts at the restaurant, with three days of nothing to do. Yuuri wandered around the small space for a while, checking and rechecking boxes, before his anxiety got the best of him and he had to get out. 

 

He put on his jogging clothes and went for a run. It was late February and freezing, but the movement warmed him quickly. 

 

It absolutely astounded him that less than four weeks previous he was still in Hasetsu, stuck in the same limbo of classes and work at the inn, before the news from Phichit about the competition had changed his life. 

 

Moving to New York had been a quick decision, but it was always something he had told himself he would do. Juilliard was in New York, which meant the silver dancer should be too. Right?

 

But honestly he had expected them to scrape by, balancing finances with time to train, struggling to find the balance and also have a shot at winning. Yuuri knew that only one person could win. He knew what that meant, that even if one of them  _ did _ manage it, that one of them would be left behind. He didn’t want to think about it too much. 

 

Viktor’s angry nephew was also competing. Yuuri had only seen him for a minute, but that was long enough to know that he was in shape and had the body of a dancer. Yuuri couldn’t even claim that. He gained weight so easily, even while working so hard to keep it off. He was muscled enough to dance, he made sure of that, but he was too pudgy to be considered beautiful the way that dancers should be. It was one of his biggest insecurities. 

 

The softness of his stomach made its presence known as he ran, its subtle jiggle filled him with self loathing. He ran faster, as though he could leave it behind. 

 

He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he didn’t win. Would he stay on at the casino, working for Viktor? Did he want to? Yuuri was almost positive that Viktor wasn’t the silver dancer. He looked  _ so much _ like him. But the silver dancer Yuuri remembered had been so lost in dance, so obviously a part of it. He  _ had _ to have gone on to Julliard. He  _ had _ to be there. Yuuri had wanted to find him for so long, he doubted even losing the competition could cure him of that. 

 

Still, Viktor intrigued him. Phichit was under the impression that Viktor was in love with Yuuri and that was why he offered them such a nice gig. Yuuri brushed the idea off, telling Phichit you can’t fall in love with someone in one night. Viktor was not in love with him. That was ridiculous. 

 

But the way he looked at Yuuri… and the way he had touched him… Yuuri had been sure that if Phichit had waited just a few more seconds to walk back into the room…

 

No, it didn’t matter. Viktor was way out of his league anyway, and Yuuri had no business even considering forming a relationship with him. He’d probably get his heart broken if he did. Viktor could have anyone.

 

No, Yuuri would definitely get his heart broken. And he didn’t have time for that. He had a competition to win. 

 

With that in mind, he turned towards the studio. Spending the next three days training seemed like a great idea. 

  
  
  
  


Thursday went by very quickly. Yuuri and Phichit busied themselves throughout the morning by packing up last minute items, and by the time they were done, movers were knocking on the door. 

 

Yuuri wasn’t sure they were movers at all. They didn’t look like movers. Their truck was plain and white, with no movers logo. They were all rather quiet as well. Yuuri was feeling more and more anxious as the men went through their apartment, grabbing boxes without hesitation, until Chris walked in the door. 

 

Yuuri was actually relieved to see him. 

 

“Chris!” Phichit exclaimed, waving. 

 

“Good afternoon boys, ready to go?” He asked, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. 

 

“Shouldn’t we wait for them to finish?” Yuuri asked. 

 

“Nah, they’ve got it under control. Have you eaten?” 

 

Yuuri shook his head. 

 

“Then let me treat you both to lunch and then we’ll head back to the casino.” Without waiting for a response, Chris turned and fired off instructions to the movers and held the door open for the two of them. Yuuri and Phichit glanced at each other, Phichit just smiled and shrugged and tugged Yuuri out the door. 

 

They stopped at a little sandwich bistro along the way. It was small and cramped, and the three of them were stuffed into a tiny window booth. Yuuri was wracked with nerves of course, picking at his food, while Chris and Phichit chatter amiably. 

 

“So what is it you do Chris, if Viktor runs the casino?” Phichit asked. 

 

“I’m his head of security. I take care of all those pesky details that Viktor is too lazy or forgetful to manage. I’m also his best friend, so there’s that.” 

 

“How long have you known him?” Yuuri found himself asking. 

 

“Hmm let me see… he moved to America when he was eighteen and started assisting the guy Yakov had running the casino before him. I was bussing tables at one of the restaurants on the main floor at the time, I was twenty. We were both foreign and trying to learn english so we started hanging out a lot. So about nine years.” 

 

“Where are you from?” from Phichit. 

 

“Switzerland. I was young and adventurous and came here on a whim and just never left.” 

 

“Do you like working at the casino?”

 

“M-hm. It’s home. And it’s never boring.” Chris grinned at them. 

 

It was after one when they pulled up to the casino. The limo driver let them them out and they followed Chris into the front lobby and up to the desk. He had a brief conversation with one of the gentlemen behind the counter, who gave him some keys, then had them follow him to the elevators. 

 

“Here are your new keys.” He said, handing each of them a shiny silver key alongside a black hotel card key as they took the elevator up to floor thirty seven. “While you live here you will eat in the restaurants for free, or if you don’t feel like leaving your room you can order in from the kitchens. All spa, pool, and gym services are comped as well. After you get settled in and unpacked, you’ll meet the dancers we have here on staff and you can start coordinating with them on programs. Sound good?”

 

Yuuri and Phichit nodded. Phichit was so excited, and Yuuri couldn’t help but be excited alongside him, though he was a bit more subdued. When they arrived on thirty seven they found that their belongings were already being delivered. Within an hour they were sitting alone in their new living room surrounded by boxes.  

 

Even with the mess, the apartment was so much larger than the one Phichit had across town. The entire place could have fit into their new living room. It had cream carpet with light grey walls, full of white trim and dimmable recessed lighting. The furnishings were a mix of blue, silvers, greys, and creams, with shiny dark wood tables and many windows offering access to natural light. 

 

Phichit was throwing the curtains open wide, letting in the afternoon sunlight and a beautiful cityline view. 

 

“We haven't even started and I’m already exhausted.” Yuuri groaned, looking around in dismay. 

 

“I bet you are. You’ve been running yourself into the ground these last few days. You need to get some sleep.” Phichit answered, already ripping open a box. 

 

“I will tonight. I want to get this done. Where should we start?”

 

They started with bedroom boxes. Yuuri had much less than Phichit, considering he had only brought two suitcases and a carry on when he flew from Japan. But it seemed that Phichit had acquired an astounding amount of random things during the year he had lived in New York. Once Yuuri had put his measly belongings in his new room, he helped Phichit organize the remaining boxes by room. 

 

Phichit found and set up the stereo and put on some music, and soon they were dancing as much as they were unpacking. Phichit knocked his toe on the coffee table as he twisted around Yuuri, hips swaying as he carried one of the bathroom boxes. He half cried, half laughed as he doubled over, loudly assuring Yuuri that his toe was going to fall off. 

 

Their shenanigans lasted well into the evening, when Yuuri called down to the kitchens to order a pizza. It arrived promptly with a bottle of chilled Malbec, courtesy of Viktor according to the note. Yuuri couldn’t help the smile and laugh as Phichit toasted to Viktors ‘adorable obsession’ with Yuuri. 

 

It was after ten that night when they finally cleared away the last of the boxes. They left them outside in the hallway as instructed and sat down on the couch to eat the last of their pizza and drink the last bit of wine. 

 

Though it was much passed sunset, city light from the window filled their spacious living room with a soft glow. Yuuri was… happy. 

 

“I’m glad we did this. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be a mistake.” Yuuri murmured, half asleep on the couch even before he had finished his slice of pizza. 

 

“I don’t think it will. I think this is going to be great for us Yuuri. Just wait and see.” Phichit replied, yawning. 

 

“Hmm.” Yuuri offered, but didn’t reply. 

 

He crawled into his new bed that night, body aching and exhausted. It took him no time at all to fall asleep, and when he did it was full of dreams of silver hair across his new blue pillows. He wouldn’t remember by morning. 

  
  
  
  
  


Yuuri woke up late the next morning feeling cozy and well rested. After dwelling in a sated half sleep for a while, he reached over to his bedside table to drag his glasses and laptop onto the bed. 

 

He spent a little while emailing his family to update them, then reading over news from Julliard. Yuuri liked to check their website every now and then, a habit formed long ago when his search for the silver dancer was still his priority. Not that it wasn’t anymore, but it had transformed from a boiling need down to a low and constant simmer. 

 

By the time he finally closed the laptop, he could hear Phichit calling to him from the kitchen. He was making tea when Yuuri walked in, shirtless with bed hair. Yuuri smiled fondly at him, thanking him when Phichit handed over a steaming mug. 

 

“So we don’t meet with the other dancers until tomorrow, so what do you want to do today?” Phichit asked.

 

“Hmm. Check out the gym Chris mentioned?” 

 

“Good idea! I want to explore the casino a bit too.” He added. Yuuri nodded. 

  
  


Most of the larger shops and businesses that thrived inside the casino itself, like the club, restaurants, coffee shop, gym, and spa, were located on the first three floors. After they showered and dressed, Phichit and Yuuri found himself exploring the place, steaming coffees in hand. The floors were wide slabs of patterned marble, hints of silver and gold gleaming under their feet in the bright lighting. All the walls between them and the shops were made of floor to ceiling glass. There were more than Yuuri expected. 

 

There was a general goods shop, that carried basic toiletries and necessities, a clothing shop, a shoe place, ice cream parlour, even a toy store. The casino itself was massive, and Yuuri was amazed to find that technically he would never really need to leave. Anything they may need was right there. 

 

The pool was located on one side, over the parking garage. Floors four and five were the casino floors, which also held a bar. They didn’t stay long, the place smelled like cigarette smoke and wasn’t really Yuuri’s scene. 

 

The gym was amazing. There was all manner of workout equipment, but there were also foam mats for stretching and yoga. 

 

That was where Phichit and Yuuri ended up, side by side on mats as they practiced yoga poses to stretch their muscles. 

 

“Hey, Phichit?” Yuuri asked as he sank down into a sideways extension. 

 

“Yeah?” Phichit answered, but didn’t look over and ruin his half bound lotus. 

 

“What if the other dancers don’t like us?” 

 

“Don’t be silly. Everyone likes you, Yuuri.”

 

“No, everyone likes  _ you _ . You’re easy to like. I’m just. Awkward.” 

 

“I know someone who likes you more than they like me.” Phichit answered, coming out of pose to smirk at Yuuri. 

 

“Don’t start.” Yuuri groaned, flushing. “I just mean, we’re going to working with these people but we’ve never met them. I don’t want them to think we’re intruding on their space.”

 

“I know. But it’ll be fine. I don’t think Viktor would have offered if he thought it was going to be a problem, you know?” Phichit said, sitting down on his mat as Yuuri moved into standing bow. 

 

“I guess.” Yuuri sighed. 

 

“Hey, why don’t we go get lunch after this?” 

 

“Alright… just don’t let me eat too much okay?” Yuuri muttered, bringing his leg down as he glanced over at his friend. 

 

There was a uncharacteristically sad look on Phichits face as he agreed gently. 

 

“Okay.” 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Viktor knew he shouldn’t, he really did. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

 

Yuuri’s form on the screen in front of him bent down into a stretch, his legs spread wide and muscles stretching with obvious ease as he looked over to talk to Phichit. Viktor ran both his hands down his face as he watched, guiltily captivated. 

 

He scrambled when the door opened, rushing to close the live security video feed as someone entered his office. He sighed when he realized it was only Chris. He should have known. No one dared enter his office without knocking except for Chris. Well, and Yuri. 

 

“Were you doing something naughty?” His friend asking, upon seeing his face. 

 

“No. Maybe.” Viktor sighed. “Yes.” He opened the window back up as Chris came around his desk to look. 

 

“Oh my. That’s…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well. If you weren’t my dear friend I would be going after that sweet morsel myself.” 

 

“Hmm. Did you need something?” Viktor asked, spell broken as Yuuri stood. 

 

“Yes. I’ve spoken to Celestino, so he’ll be expecting the both of them at rehearsals tomorrow.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Yuri is going to be less than happy.” 

 

“Of course not. He’ll be delighted.” Viktor smiled brightly. 

 

“If you say so.” Chris chuckled. “Have you spoken to them today?” 

 

“No.” Viktor sighed, pouting slightly. “I’m trying to give them space.” 

 

“Probably a good idea. I love you, my friend, but you’re a bit intense when you want something.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Viktor said airily. “Will you need me tonight?”

 

“Doubtful. Why?”

 

“I’m having dinner with my sweet nephew.” 

 

Chris laughed, one short bark of amusement. “Good luck with that.” He grinned. 

 

“Hmm. Da.” 

  
  
  


“What the hell do you want?” Yuri asked a few hours later, as he barged into Viktors apartment. He didn’t bother to take his boots off. He never did. 

 

“Yuratchka, hello. khoteli by vy vypit'?” Viktor questioned, standing in front of his liquor cabinet and peeing into its depths. 

 

“Da. Vodka.” 

 

Viktor nodded and poured them both a glass. There was food waiting, but they would get to that. He waited until Yuri had taken a large swallow, knowing it would make him fractionally more agreeable, before beginning. 

 

“I have a favor to ask.”

 

“The fuck do you want Viktor.” Yuri deadpanned, plopping down on Viktors couch. Viktor waited until he had taken another sip. 

 

“Misters Chulanont and Katsuki will be joining the performance team.”

 

“ _ What _ ! Bullshit!  _ That’s _ why they’re here? Nyet. Tell them you changed your mind.” 

 

“Yura,” Viktor began firmly. 

 

“Fuck no, are you trying to replace me? Is that it? You’re not sending me back to Russia. I won’t go!” Yuri jumped off of the couch, raging, almost spitting. 

 

“Why would you think I want to send you home?” Viktor asked, eyes wide and frowning with genuine confusion. 

 

“Because! Everyone wants to get rid of me! Yakov and Lilia, everyone at the academy in Russia, and now you. I knew all that nice crap was fake. I knew you were fake. Fuck you, Nikiforov. I’m not going back. You can’t force me.” Yuri hissed, gripping his vodka tumbler and throwing it with all the strength he could muster. It shattered against the wall, the sound breaking the air around them.

 

“Yuri…” Viktor breathed, watching as his chest heaved, anger and fear radiating off of him in forceful waves. “Yuri I’m not sending you back. I wouldn’t do that. This is your home.” Viktor said, in what he hoped was a soothing tone. He was bad at this type of thing. 

 

“I’m not trying to replace you. This is  _ your _ show. Chulanont and Katsuki are dancers too. They’re good, but they’re not  _ you. _ I just… I needed a reason to get Katsuki here. I offered them a job with your team. You’re not going anywhere.” Viktor added softley, stepping around the table to stand close to Yuri. 

 

Upon closer inspection, he was shaking. His hands were balled into quivering fists, his eyes were watery and angry. Viktor reached up and touched his shoulder. Yuri jerked away. 

 

“You’re not my fucking uncle Viktor. You’re not my friend. I’m horrible to you, and everyone here. I don’t know how much Yakov paid you to take me in, but I’m not your fucking charity case either. As soon as I win the Juilliard competition I’ll be gone and out of your fucking hair.” Yuri spat. “In the meantime, keep your little piggy boyfriend off the center stage.” 

 

With those departing words, Yuri turned on his heel and stormed out of Viktors apartment, slamming the door hatefully behind him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One translation for this chapter:
> 
> Would you like a drink?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Guess who slammed their fingers in a window, subsequently breaking one? Yeah, that would be me. First broken bone I've ever had. And it's my damn finger. Good thing I've got enough chapters to continue posting one a week for the next two months, right? Lol. I'll be back on writing schedule in a few weeks.

The stage was beautiful. 

 

Yuuri and Phichit had arrived early, hoping to take in the space first before meeting everyone. It was a theatre, wide and bright and grand with hundreds of cushy red seats, lined in row after row. The stage lights were on, shining in their faces as they absorbed the scene. It was empty, of course, in the middle of the day. 

 

Yuuri could imagine dancing here, a full house cheering him on. The imagery was beautiful. 

 

It wasn’t long before their new instructor arrived to meet them. His name was Celestino. He was a tall, broad man, with dark skin and long hair that he kept pulled back. He was friendly, and shook both of their hands with a smile. 

 

“Nice to meet you. Mr. Nikiforov has told me great things about your talent. He said you’re from Japan?”

 

“Yes, sir. Well, Yuuri is. I’m originally from Thailand.” Phichit answered. 

 

“And you came to America to dance?” He asked. Yuuri and Phichit nodded. “Well, you came to the right place.” Celestino smiled. 

 

He gave them a tour of backstage, and explained their performances and routines. They performed on Saturdays, three weeks out of the month. They were lucky to have joined on the week that there was no performance, so that the team could focus on incorporating them into the show instead of focusing on performing. 

 

Celestino had been going on brief descriptions of the other dancers as they came back to the main stage, and hesitated for a moment before they came to a stop on stage where they would wait for the others to join them. 

 

“Now, our principal dancer can be a bit… overwhelming. He’s young, but he’s very talented. He is also Mr. Nikiforov’s nephew, which puts him in a… certain position. Do you get my meaning?” Celestino asked delicately. 

 

Yuuri and Phichit glanced at each other knowingly. They nodded. 

 

“Great. I’m letting you know now because he’ll probably try to make your job very difficult at first. He doesn’t adjust to new people very well, but he’ll get there. So… don’t let him scare you off, okay?” Celestino asked, smiling encouragingly. 

 

“We’ll do our best, sir.” Phichit offered, smiling. Yuuri merely nodded. 

 

“Excellent. Everyone should start arriving soon. We’ll be able to make introductions, and you can probably just sit back and watch for today. We’ll practice again tomorrow and that will be when your work begins.” 

 

With that, Yuuri and Phichit retreated to sit in the fourth row, near the center so they had a good view of the stage. Members of the troupe began to file in, waiting around chatting with each other and casting curious looks at the two of them. Yuuri recognized Mila and Sara in the crowd. 

 

About twenty minutes later Celestino strode back in and glanced around, he mumbled to himself, frowning, before shouting for everyone to line up. 

 

“Alright everyone, we have two new members today. This is Phichit Chulanont and Yuuri Katsuki. I want you to all make them feel welcome.” Celestino called, no nonsense. Yuuri and Phichit waved as he said their names. Phichit was a bit more enthusiastic. 

 

“State your names, go down the line so we can all get to know each other.” Celestino ordered. 

 

Yuuri and Phichit paid close attention as everyone said their name, starting from the left end to the right. There were Michele, Seung Gil, Minami, Mila, Sara, and J.J. Yuuri noticed that Viktor’s angry nephew was missing. 

 

They all seemed friendly enough. Not only were Mila and Sara familiar, Yuuri was pretty sure he had seen J.J. behind the bar on their first night here. 

 

“Now, we have a list of performances but the main one we’re working on right now is-” Celestino was cut off by a loud bang from backstage. Everyone turned as Viktor’s nephew strode in. He had a way of commanding attention, radiating confidence in a way that Yuuri had always strived for but never managed. 

 

He was gorgeous, and wild. He was dressed just as eccentrically as the previous time they had seen him, with bright red leopard print shoes, tight black jeans, and a grey and red hoodie. His hood was up, covering most of his blond hair. On his face was a scowl, but it did nothing to hide his beauty. He was almost as lovely as Viktor. Almost. 

 

Yuuri felt a surge of jealousy. Yuri Plisetsky was everything he wished he could be. 

 

“Yuri, glad you could make it. This is-” 

 

“I know who they are.” Yuri spat to Celestino. “You can leave. We don’t need you.” He added, to Yuuri and Phichit. He was looking down his nose at them from the stage, green eyes lit with distaste. 

 

“How do you know, you’ve never seen us dance.” Phichit offered, immune to the tension as always. Yuuri glanced over at him, grateful once again for his friendship. 

“I don’t need to. Especially your little piggy friend over there.” Yuri sneered. He jumped down from the stage and stalked over to their seats. Yuuri stood, wary. Phichit, ever supportive, stood as well. 

 

“Why don’t you take your fat ass and crawl back to wherever you came from. I don’t need you taking up space on my stage.” Yuri growled up into his face. From so close, Yuuri could see that he was indeed beautiful, but he looked nothing like Viktor. 

 

The words hurt, hitting Yuuri’s insecurities and made him itch to pull the hem of his shirt down. He resisted, balling his fists at his sides. He wouldn’t give this little brat the satisfaction. 

 

Yuuri was anxious. He was overweight. He wasn’t very good looking. He was average. He knew these things about himself. But he also never backed down from a challenge. 

 

Yuri Plisetsky getting up in his face was actually the best thing that could have happened, because it brought out his need to  _ win.  _ Yuuri slid his hands into his pockets and smiled down at him. 

 

“How about we dance first and then you can decide?” He suggested. 

 

* * *

  
  


Viktor stood in his private box, looking down at the scene below. He crossed his arms, biting the nail of his left thumb. Yuri was going to ruin everything. He was going to scare off Viktor’s cute little crush and he’d never find happiness. He would die alone.  _ Alone.  _

 

Perhaps that was a little dramatic. But when he watched his nephew jump down from the stage and push his face up into Yuuri’s, spitting vitriol, his stomach clenched with anxiety. He watched Yuuri closely for his reaction, waiting with bated breath as he stared down at his counterpart. 

 

And then Yuuri did something that amazed Viktor. He smiled and offered a challenge. Viktor didn’t think it was possible for him to fall more in love with the guy. He was wrong. 

 

He watched, smiling, as Yuri scoffed and dragged him up to the stage. The rest of their group made room as Yuuri and Yuri faced off against each other. Minami turned on their stereo, playing an upbeat number that would get the blood flowing. Viktor wished he could get closer, but he didn’t want to give away his presence. He leaned as far over the balcony as he dared, getting the best view he could. 

 

Yuri began first, his body moving with an ease born by pure talent. Everyone knew he was gifted, he was the principal dancer for a reason. But he was young and arrogant, entitled and lazy. He felt that no one could compete with him. As he finished his step sequence and Yuuri began, showing off his own skill, Viktor thought that maybe Yuuri would be one of the best things that happened to his nephew. 

 

Yuri’s face was growing more and more angry the longer he watched Yuuri dance. Viktor could see the realization slowly dawning on him. Yuuri was good. He was very good. 

 

They danced back and forth, the others cheering louder and louder the longer their competition went on. Viktor could see that his nephew was tiring, but Yuuri looked barely out of breath. His stamina was impressive. 

 

Eventually Yuri shouted, “Enough! Fine! You can join our group. Just keep your fat ass out of my way!” He hissed, stomping off of the stage to lick his wounds in private. The others jumped up to congratulate Yuuri, patting him on the back, welcoming him effortlessly. Viktor could see Phichit whispering praise and encouragement in his ear. Yuuri was grinning happily. 

 

When he had seen all he needed to see, Viktor made his way quietly out of the theatre and back to the elevators. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Yuri was _ obozlennyy  _ and itching for someone to scream at. The force of his anger was eating away at what little self control he had. The piggy was good. Too good, good enough that he could possibly surpass him in skill if he worked hard enough. Yuri couldn't have that. He had to stay center stage… if he didn’t… 

 

Before he could stop himself, he was walking into the club, twitching with aggravation at their crappy music, glaring around at anyone who dared to make eye contact.  _ Please _ , he thought,  _ please fuck with me. _

 

To his disappointment, the crowd parted in front of him like they were being physically burned by his presence. 

 

He threw himself down on his stool at the bar, elbows on the glossy wood and rested his head in his hands. He gripped his hair tightly, until he felt strands being pulled from his scalp. 

 

A glass was set down in front of him. 

 

Yuri looked up and there was Altin, silently pouring him a shot of Vodka with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“Spasibo.” He muttered, downing the shot in one. Altin poured him another. 

 

“Rough practice?” Altin asked. Yuri hadn’t expected him to. They usually didn’t make conversation. The need to scream and rave rose up in him again. 

 

“Fucking Viktor hired his new boy toy to join the team. He’s not even  _ that _ good.” He lied, “He’s just going to get in my way and mess me up and I don’t have time to deal with that shit right now. I have a competition in a few months that I need to focus on.” Yuri spat, downing his second shot. 

 

“The Juilliard competition?” Altin questioned. Yuri nodded. 

 

“I don’t think you need to worry. You’re going to win.” Altin said tonelessly, as though commenting on the weather. 

 

“You don’t know that.” Yuri said, glaring down at this glass so that Altin couldn’t see how that comment affected him. 

 

“Yes I do. I’ve seen you dance.” Yuri’s head shot back up. 

 

“When?” He demanded. 

 

“I’ve been to some of the performances.” He shrugged, pouring another shot. 

 

“Why?” Yuri asking, frowning. He immediately wished he hadn’t. He should have said thank you or some shit, right? Why did he always say the wrong fucking thing. 

 

“Because I enjoy watching you dance.” Altin said after a moment’s silence. He wasn’t looking at Yuri, he was looking over at the crowd, face calm and passive. Yuri was anything but calm and passive, but he tried not to show it. 

 

“Oh. That’s… that’s cool I guess.” He managed. Altin just shrugged. 

 

Yuri bit his lip, trying to think of something to say, something to keep the conversation going. 

 

“You should come to the performance next weekend. I’ll wave at you.” He said lamely, hating himself.  _ What the fuck Plisetsky? _

 

“I can’t. I’m working next weekend.” 

 

“Oh.” Yuri was ready to crawl into a hole and scream until his throat bled. “That’s fine, whatever.” He downed his shot, getting ready to leave. 

 

“I can come to some practices though.” Altin added, looking over at Yuri. 

 

Yuri looked back at him, wide eyed. His face was calm, relaxed, expressionless. How the fuck was Yuri supposed to know what he was thinking? His dark eyes stared back, waiting. Yuri shoved his hair out of his face and nodded. 

 

“Okay. Cool.” He swallowed, mouth dry. Altin was still looking at him. Yuri noticed the width of his jaw, the line of his neck. He wanted to run his fingers through his undercut. 

 

The spell was broken when a crowd approached the bar a few yards away, looking for drinks. Altin gave him one last look then left, attending his customers. 

 

Yuri slid off the stool and left, chancing a wave. Altin nodded at him as he made drinks, then Yuri made to leave, hands in his pockets. 

 

He left the club in a drastically different mood than when he entered it. 

 

Altin had been to his performances. He said he  _ enjoyed watching Yuri dance _ . Not the others.  _ Him. _ It took Yuri a minute to recognize what he was feeling. 

 

_ Happiness.  _

 

* * *

  
  
  


Later that night, or perhaps very early the next morning, Otabek pulled his bike up onto the curb in front of a shappy run down apartment in one of the cheaper neighborhoods of New York. He pulled out the thick chain and lock he used to secure the motorcycle to the street pole so that it wouldn't get stolen, and walked up the stone steps to his door. It was dark when he walked inside, and cold. The air fogged in front of his face when he breathed. 

 

“Ma?” He called out, hanging his keys inside the door. 

 

He found her in the kitchen, puttering around in front of the stove. Her thick black hair was streaked with grey and her clothes hung off of her thin shoulders. The cold made her body stiff and slow. 

 

“Why isn’t the heater on?” He asked, coming to stand next to her. She was making  Beshbarmak. It smelled good. 

 

“It’s not working, Beshka.” She murmured, in her heavily accented voice. Otabek sighed. 

 

“Want me to call the landlord?” He asked. 

 

“In the morning. Hungry?” 

 

“Yes, ma.” 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Viktor woke early the next morning, a plan forming in his mind. 

 

After he showered and dressed, leashed Maccachin, who bounced happily around his legs, and set out down the hall. He stopped in front of Yuuri’s door and knocked, waiting. It opened to reveal Phichit, who had a bit of toast hanging out of his mouth and a cup of tea in one hand. 

 

“Good morning,” Viktor said smiling. “Is Yuuri around?” 

 

“Yuuuuuuuriiiiii,” Phichit yelled around his toast, grinning at Viktor. He pushed the door open the rest of the way to reveal Yuuri inside, sitting on the couch with his laptop resting on his legs. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, with bed hair. The light of the screen reflected off of his glasses. Viktor tried not to swoon. 

 

“Good morning Yuuri. I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast?” Viktor asked, putting on his best and brightest smile. He watched as Yuuri’s face heated up, then as he noticed Maccachin. 

 

“Oh my goodness what a beautiful poodle!” He gushed, standing immediately. “Can I pet him?” He asked, looking back up at Viktor. 

 

Maccachin immediately bounded into the room, the leash slipping right through Viktor’s lax fingers. _ Oops? _ He rushed up to Yuuri, wagging his floofy tail and panting happily. Yuuri leaned down, instantly enamored. Viktor couldn't have been happier. 

 

“Oh you gorgeous boy! What is your name! You’re so soft and cute!” Yuuri cooed softly at him, petting him with enthusiasm and letting Maccachin jump on him and lick him all over his face. Viktor was absolutely delighted. 

 

He had known Yuuri was the one. This just proved it even further. 

 

“His name is Maccachin.” Viktor offered blissfully. “Do you like him?”

 

“Yuuri is obsessed with Poodles,” Phichit let out, laughing. 

 

“I’m not obsessed! They’re just so cute!” He groaned, hugging Maccachin to him. 

 

“Well Maccachin will be at breakfast too, if you want to come with us?” Viktor added, not above using his dog to get what he wanted. 

 

Yuuri looked up at him, hesitating only a moment before nodding. 

 

“Okay. Let me go get dressed.” 

  
  


After Yuuri reappeared wearing jeans and a grey long sleeved shirt, they made their way down to the main floors for breakfast. Viktor led them to the coffee shop, sitting down at a table and waving at the barista behind the counter. 

 

“Are dogs allowed in here?” Yuuri asked as they sat down across from each other. 

 

“They are when they’re Maccachin.” Viktor grinned. Yuuri smiled and reached out with his foot to rub Macca’s belly. Viktor purred. 

 

“How long have you had him?” 

 

“Hmm, Yakov got him for me after my parents died. About ten years, I guess.” 

 

“So long? He looks great for his age.” Yuuri praised. 

 

“I take very good care of him. He’s very important to me.” 

 

“I can see that.” Yuuri said, smiling shyly. Viktor bit his lip. 

 

“What about you? Have you ever had a dog?”

 

“No, but I always wanted a Poodle. Between training and school and plans to move here with Phichit, I never really had time.” Yuuri sighed.

 

“I understand. Well, you’re welcome to spend time with Macca whenever you want.” Viktor offered, images of Yuuri coming over to hang out with his dog filling his head. Yuuri and Macca on the couch. Yuuri and Macca going on walks. Yuuri and Macca asleep, snuggling in bed. Viktors bed. He waved the thoughts away reluctantly. 

 

“Really? I’d like that!” Yuuri said, leaning forward to pet Macca again. Viktor mentally squealed with glee. 

 

“Otlichno! We have movie nights sometimes. You could come join us.” 

 

Yuuri looked up at him, questioning, and Viktor wondered if he had gone too far. 

 

“Yuri would be there. Chris too, probably. Phichit would be welcome.” Viktor added, backtracking. 

 

“That sounds fun,” Yuuri said, smiling shyly.  _ Phew, crisis averted.  _

 

“Wednesday? That’s when we usually do it, as Yuri doesn’t have practice Wednesday’s. So you and Phichit won’t either. Around six?”

 

“Okay. Wednesday at six.” Yuuri agreed. 

 

“Good morning Mr. Nikiforov. What can I get you?” The barista wandered over, smiling at the two of them. 

 

“The usual for me Joan, what about you Yuuri?”

  
  


They spent the next half hour chatting happily before Viktor had to go to work. Yuuri mentioned that he and Phichit needed to go to the gym, sending flutters of guilty anticipation through Viktor. 

 

Viktor walked with him back to the apartments, pausing in front of Yuuri’s door. 

 

“I enjoyed spending time with you, Yuuri. I’ll be looking forward to Wednesday.” He murmured.

 

“I… I did too. Thank you. I…” Yuuri began, blushing. Viktor longed to reach out and press his fingers to that soft face. His pink lips. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for us.” Yuuri said, bowing slightly. 

 

“Oh, Yuuri, don’t worry about it. You have a lot of talent! I would have been stupid to let you go without offering you a job! But really, you don’t work for me. You work for Celestino. He runs the theatre. I just recommended you to him.” Viktor said, waving a hand as he tried to downplay his part. He didn’t want Yuuri to feel indebted to him. That would make things too complicated. 

 

“If you insist.” Yuuri said, as though humoring him. 

 

“Da, I insist.”

 

“Okay. Well… see you later, Viktor.” Yuuri murmured. He gave Viktor a quick smile that he could almost have described as  _ flirty,  _ before he walked into his apartment and shut the door softly behind him. Viktor felt his cheeks grow warm. Yuuri was  _ dangerous.  _

 

“Goodbye, Yuuri.” 


End file.
